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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196645">illicit affairs.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin'>beatrixfranklin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call the Midwife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:22:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>for you I would ruin myself<br/>a million little times.</p><p>based on the song illicit affairs, by taylor swift.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Delia Busby/Patsy Mount</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>illicit affairs.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>dedicated to b for completely changing this songs meaning for me and to frank for letting me just throw fic ideas at them 24/7.</p><p>thank you b for this which entirely inspired this fic i cant lie<br/>https://twitter.com/bcingalive/status/1344378963355959300?s=19</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>make sure nobody sees you leave.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hood over your head, keep your eyes down. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What time is it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Early enough. No-one will see me leave. No-one will see anything at all," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patsy fiddles with the button at her chin, struggling to fix it, still in a sleepy haze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She had sought comfort, needed to see Delia, hear her voice, be held. Falling asleep complicates the mix entirely. Late night returns are much easier to fumble away than slipping home in the early morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>tell your friends you're out for a run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>you'll be flushed when you return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Patsy!" Trixie hears the opening of the door, relief flooding over her as the redhead hangs up her hat and coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brain is still clouded with sleep, or more so clouded with Delia. Her perfume lingers at her collar, all over her uniform in fact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't come home," Trixie replies as Patsy approaches the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes? I don't have to explain my every move to you, do I?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I- I was just worried, Patsy," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No illicit affairs here, I can assure you. I simply rode to the dock to clear my head and lost track of time," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Will you want tea?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>take the road less traveled by.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>tell yourself you can always stop</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nurses' home is dimly lit, though Patsy doesn't curse it. Keeps her hidden, each and every time she sneaks through the corridors. Slips through the darkness, avoiding the floorboards which she knows tend to creak underfoot, into the room where Delia awaits her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've missed you," Patsy sighs, perching herself on the edge of Delia's bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've missed you," Delia replies as she, as silently as possible, drags her dresser across the doorway, "things have been so busy. I'm sorry, Pats," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No need to apologise," Patsy smirks, a grin that holds so much, makes butterflies dance in Delia's heart, "so long as you make it up to me," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh? How would I go about that, then," she smiles, a glint in playful blue eyes. She leans over, planting a soft kiss to Patsy's cheek, still cold from the wind outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was thinking you could top up my bourbon," Patsy smiles, cheeks flushing red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's boring," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>what started in beautiful rooms</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ends with meetings in parking lots.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can't you stay, Pats?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delia lies curled into Patsy's side, head resting on her chest, their hands placed together. Patsy brings her bottom lip between her teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can't. I'm on call, tonight, Deels," she waits. Thinks about whether it's the right time. "I think- I think Trixie is growing suspicious,"  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trixie? The blonde girl at Nonnatus? What makes you think that?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She just seems- suspicious. It's-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't think this is- we can't- anymore," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pats?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patsy shakes her head, patting Delia's back, the other girl lifting herself away from Patsy as she comes to sit at the edge of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's dangerous," </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't think we can, Delia," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>take the words for what they are</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>a dwindling, mercurial high.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No Barbara, I'm simply saying that she-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patsy pushes open the door, potentially slightly forcefully, finding Trixie and Barbara inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just her luck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, hello Patsy!" Barbara smiles, perched on Patsy's bed as Trixie sits atop her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Barbara and I were simply having a little brightener," says Trixie, a sickeningly strong glass held in her own fair hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Care to join us, Patsy?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't. I'm on call,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We have Tizer, for poor Barbara here," she smiles over at the brunette, her face falling as Patsy simply breezes to her closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to get ready, Trixie," she says, pulling out her pressed uniform, "and if you wouldn't mind, Barbara, I'd like to be able to access my own bed," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trixie shoots Barbara a compassionate glance, one that tells her Patsy simply doesn't mean it. Trixie's right. Delia really doesn't aid Patsy's quest to fit in, to be in Poplar and simply keep her head down. Instead they play a dangerous game, their careers, their entire livelihoods acting as the bargaining chips for the poke tournament that the house is bound to win. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>look at this idiotic fool that you made me </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patsy stumbles back into Nonnatus that morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trixie greets her once again. It's different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Patsy?" she asks, blinking in the morning sun, freshly in from a house call. "Oh, Patsy," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She approaches, intent on embracing the woman, though she flinches, withdraws completely, something Trixie may not understand fully, yet she stops dead in her tracks regardless. Her eyes drop to the hands Patsy is holding close to her, fiddling aimlessly, picking at a nail. They're red raw, the skin pink with bleach and hard scrubbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's get you some germolene, sweetie," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patsy simply nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you taught me a secret language</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i can't speak with anyone else</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you suppose she'll come back?" Patsy suddenly asks as she sits out in the allotment with Trixie one night. Trixie blows smoke out into the cold evening air, watching as it trails away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe," is the reply, "she's rather injured though, isn't she?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, yes, but-" Patsy holds her hands in her lap, rolling her fingers over one another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For what it's worth, I hope she does come back. She's a lovely girl. Made you happy," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Patsy inhales sharply, nodding slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"One of the first- friends I made, out of training," Patsy says, looking up towards the window of the room she shares with Trixie, "we worked on male surgical for a while. I grew to despise it, but Delia- Delia tends to find the goodness in everything. In everyone, in fact. Nothing is ever wrong or bad for her, always given the benefit of the doubt. She'd probably shake the hand of the man who nearly killed her, if she could bloody remember it," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trixie silently offers Patsy a cigarette. She gratefully accepts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Perhaps that goodness will bring her back to Poplar. Besides, she couldn't just leave her friend behind, could she?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I bloody hope not, Trixie," </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I hope too." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>for you I would ruin myself</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>a million little times.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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